


Possessed

by fish_wifey



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima is drunk and Takao has the lovely task of dealing with idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessed

The likes of it had been unseen before and after the Yosen vs Seirin match. When the purple cloud of humanized boredom was hit by thunder, creating a man-made whirl storm on the court. Turning to dunk, to break the basket. Kazunari sees it as if it was yesterday, however, here and now, he has to deal with a whole other matter.

There's a green hurricane storming his way. The same man who quotes with a god-like voice, as a priest to punish the sinners, telling them their wrongs; now turned sinner himself at the wish of a wrist and the topple of spiritus into his hand-held cup. It's a spectacle to behold, watching Midorima Shintarou, the best shooter anyone knows, behave like he's forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other, having lost his Shuutoku jersey and his socks along the way of his sober state of mind. Swaying, fingers on the wall maintaining his right to stand upright, until he slides down, his body gravity forgotten when the lean man falls to his knees. 

Kazunari snorts once, setting the wheels in motion. Shintarou, upon hearing the noise, looks as if he's hungry and Kazunari is his dinner. With unknown speed, he rushes forward, his intentions clear to all but his feet, he sprawls again on the floor, green hair spreading over the th beige. The loss for words hold on, and Kazunari is careful when he approaches the intoxicated with care. Visibly, he holds out a hand, waving in front of the other, checking for vital signs of recognition. Lightning fast, his hand is in the other's iron-grasp, and he's pulled forward the smallest of distances. 

Whatever happens so fast flips upside down by the next; Kazunari is delighted with his arms around the green hair to hold, facing down to see the glasses askew, while Shin rubs his face into Kazunari's stomach. The action creates a light feeling, and Kazunari’s mind all but thunderstruck from all the images it’s receiving.

The beast can speak, if slow and drawling, if incoherent. It takes Shintarou five tries to find the right words, and while he does, Kazunari holds his breath. Whatever happens, he will not tell a single soul about this, vowing himself upon his manhood to take it to the grave, too precious and full of wonder to share these amazing events with anyone, too jealous to have someone else know Shintarou’s other sides.

"Mhn. Your stomach is hard. Like my...like my. You know what." 

"Sh-Shin-chan, are you okay?" He can barely contain his amusement, but fuck it if he doesn’t try. Shintarou is so far gone, unable to speak, let alone stand straight up. The embrace is hard and unrelenting, yet not hurting in any way. As Shintarou has forgotten to put his glasses straight up, Kazunari does it for him. Bare arms entrapping him as he nods, and Kazunari throws the idea of checking the previous comment with his foot, as his now all-time favourite drunk talks on to respond.

"Of course I'm okay, never better. Mhn... nhh.” For a moment, Kazunari panics, his head turning to find an exit, the bathroom, a trash can. “Bakao, I've been searching everywhere." Relief brings his eyes back to his charge below, a strange tingling in his fingers moving them to caress the soft hair

"H-hah? Don't tell me, other people saw you like this... good thing our upperclassmen are all drunk too.." Gentle, he keeps on patting the other's head, enjoying the happy hum on his shirt and tickling his belly. It can't be helped, he has to take care of him now. He’s always been the one to do so, to check on him, find him, make sure he eats well and know about the horoscope predictions. Wherever Shintarou goes, Kazunari follows. Whenever Kazunari wants to go somewhere, he sweet-talks Shintarou into joining. They’re not just teammates on the court, and their bond doesn’t allow for long periods of time without each other. It’s only natural Shintarou came looking for him, in this great hour of need (-darker thoughts whirl up known jokes from overseas, of drunks calling out to the people they love and cherish most of all. Maybe too much to put on Shintarou though…)

"I'd never known I'd be needing to search... and yet I found you...well you found me, I guess. I'm glad. Takao, I'm so glad. You never gave up basketball.” _Oh God, here it comes._ “You kept fighting. And fate brought you to me. We play together, we fight together, we win together, we do the opposite of winning...what's the word again...I don't know and I think I won’t care." Kazunari tries, he really does, to get a word in between; he opens his mouth, but all coming out is a gentle sigh, his brows twisting to fondness, which travels all over his face in a warm flood. Hearing the other's most sincere words stops him, making him speechless. Better to hear it all out, because he might not hear it like this sober. "We fuck together, and I'm so... so. _So_ glad." From rubbing in, it changes to head bumping (-there go the glasses again), underlining every word with an angry growl. Kazunari blinks, not commenting the last statement out of consideration, unable to take advantage of the situation.

"Yeah, yeah we do, Shintarou." From down below, the drunk glance is beyond adorable. Eyes which aren't completely out of focus, trembling fingers trying to re-set his glasses right, a long stare; as if Shin could scan his soul. Possessing the hawk eye isn’t worth shit when green eyes pierce his every bone. 

"Are you happy, Takao?"

"Of course I am! C'mon, can you stand...?" Kazunari isn't the weakest, his arms prove as much. They’re not strong enough to pull 175 pound of dead weight off the floor, when said weight proves incapable of understanding the need of moving on to safer waters. Or puts extra loads on to keep himself rooted to earth, it becomes problematic. 

"Oi, don't lie down! Stand up, you- Hey! Shin-chan, wait!" He’d trust Shintarou with his life, and yet a fright shakes him when his world slides upside down. At least Shintarou stands on two feet again. The downside is, he didn't let go of Kazunari, who is now carried on the other's shoulder, held by two nimble hands hiding below his shirt.

"Shintarou, put me-!”

"You're my drug. Because love is a stupid drug. And you're my stupid love."

"Yes okay, fine, very nice, how about you tell it to my face instead to my ass? Damn, you're drunk off your ass, Shintarou." Hitting him doesn't seem like a good idea, so Kazunari puts it off his mind. When the drunk holding him moves however, he cannot retain his feet from flailing, bringing the off-balance to a worsened state. Kazunari doesn't care about himself at this point, but he doesn't want to cause trouble for the intoxicated, or watch Shintarou hurt himself (-and if Kazunari got hurt by his hands...Shintarou wouldn’t forgive himself). His voice drops an octave and his serious intend commands in a firmer voice.

"Midorima, stop fucking around, damnit." As quick as he was lifted, he falls down to earth in a painful manner; his hands hurt making first contact with the felted flooring, pushing off, and his shoulder will be bruised tomorrow. Now he's the one sprawled, and he didn’t even have more than one beer. To make matters worse, he opens his eyes to scowl at Shintarou, who looks like murder; eyes ablaze with poisonous enragement. Kazunari feels like kicking the other for a moment, but only because he's hurt. Blindly finding the drawer in the hall, Kazunari is about to level himself up once more, Shin’s fury interrupting. 

"Don't call me that." Are you fucking kidding me!? Sitting up, Kazunari maintains the cold stare right back, even awe-astonished. From day one, Shintarou had been abhoring being called friendly. Now it was the other way around!?

"Wh-what?" Half-way standing up, hands grab the insides of his elbows, clamping. In full swing, Kazunari gets rammed into the wall, which isn't helping the pain or his vexed state. In the background, he hears the seniors breaking out in a Utada song, loud enough to not hear this outrageous confrontation. From falling to the ground, to having his elbows forcefully held (-and most definitely bruised), his shoulder blades are now in for a sharp pain. Shintarou's stare is even worse, maddened to a point of no return. His jaw is slack, hot breath trailing Kazunari's throat, withholding his foul mood as much as he does in daily life; not at all.

"Don't call me that. Don't be serious when you say it." It frightens Kazunari to the bone, feeling the tremble of the other vibrating his body, down to his fingertips and his toes. Shintarou isn't angry, he's unnerved, insecurity shaking his head and making him bite his bottom lip. Kazunari's anger vanishes, his fingers trying to get a hold of the other's skin. Unable to meet Shin’s tearful eyes, Kazunari slides his gaze past the monster in front of him, travels past pictures he can’t see and into the dimly lit kitchen, his view limited -Shintarou’s eyes are magnets, and they call out to him. 

"Shh, it's okay. I was just slightly alarmed. Hey, hey Shin..." A nail scrapes the harder part of Shintarou’s elbow, the sensitive skin reacting to the touch. As if the smallest of gestures breaks down this harsh demeanour, Shintarou’s voices drops a notch, the anger visibly flowing out of his body while it towers over Kazunari -blocking the light no one needs because Shin’s flare gleams enough, although it flickers with weakness. 

"Only you...only you can call me...'Shin-chan'. No one else. Not my parents or my sister or my...future… never-wanting...to have a wife ...no. I don't want to marry. I want to stay with you. And only you...don't. Don't call me by my last name." And for all he’s worth, Kazunari gladly throws all manliness aside, only to shed a tear inside for such a statement. Whatever happened between them, whatever will happen in the future, to hear Shintarou more than ready to throw away a solid future he was made for… He has to focus on the actual problem though, and so he brings them back on topic.

"Oi oi oi, how much did you have? Relax...and anyway, you're always call me by my last name. Remember, when we got together? You even called me 'Takao' when we’re doing stuff. Don't you think you're overreacting..?"

"I'm afraid, and you know... I like to keep the distance, because I'm afraid. Don't wanna... want to show anyone how I feel. Not even you. You keep me safe yet... I'm afraid. Of losing you." From one thing to another, Kazunari feels as if someone takes his innards, stomps on them, burns them, throws them over a cliff, only to be flooded right after all of it. What’s left of everything between his throat and his lap has become an empty void, a struck mess of whirled emotions, created by every single word Shintarou has uttered, incoherent or not. It weakens his state in a fatigue, and with a smile on his lips, his knees give out, pulling Shintarou with him. There’s no weakness, as he has the glorified task of holding a crying Shintarou, who kept repeating his fears and worries. Explaining how 'Takao' was alike a sweet name for him, 'his hawk'. It sounded so cheap and idiotic, and probably made perfect sense in the drunk head. For all the sweet things they never said, choosing jokes and snide comments above anything normal couples would say, it all came down tonight due a few beers inside of Shintarou.

"Saying 'Kazunari' is...is private. I don't want anyone to think they can call you that because I do. Adding a suffix would only...only make it more polite. I don't need to be polite with you. Takao...Takao is a strong name."

"And? You don't mind when I called you...tch, nahw, you did in the beginning though. What changed your view, mhn?" Fitting Shintarou comfortably between his opened legs, his hands slide back over the scalp, massaging it within lazy circles, messing with them as the other tries to lie down without bringing his glasses into a dangerous position.

"I'm yours. Not just Shuutoku's. I'm yours. I belong- you belong to me. You're mine. I'm too embarrassed by calling out to you...but you always hear me. You always tease me because you know." Snot and tears mixing on his shirt, but Kazunari didn't mind. Shintarou never huffed out his sobs or wailed loudly, it was a silent thing, something covered by rain and gone in an instant. The words more important -so Shintarou thought Kazunari to be an all-knowing being huh? It might be true he could read him easier than most, and Shintarou’s limited shown emotions were not so hard to decipher. Still, between belief and knowledge is a thin line of doubt. Kazunari thanks the alcohol deities (Dionysus, he remembers) for this revelation, killing his doubts.

Shintarou has an indication when he’s done -slow breaths out of his open mouth, inhaling calm back into his body, not as loud when he’s been running, or as dead-silent when he’s furious. Holding the other in a tight embrace, Kazunari bents down to kiss the green hair, hiding all those brilliant idiocies, suffering from a severe crack of love-madness. Their background music from a few rooms further was a loud K-rock remix, and apparently, Kimura keeping his drunk state by the help of Shuutoku’s infamous Piña Colada cocktails. Kazunari couldn't say he'd minded the whole lovely catastrophe very much... Shintarou hardly became this honest with him; he said it himself, Kazunari often had to read along the lines to see, to keep on hoping.

"You...don't laugh!"

"I'm not! Shhh, I'm not laughing about you. I’m happy." He smiled down to the angry-looking, face he’d fallen so hard for all those months ago, dealing with his sexuality and the insane high maintenance, man-made miracle he held right now.

"Okay just...just don't. Tomorrow too. Don't laugh. Don't make jokes." No matter how much he started to sound like himself again, Kazunari, a pro at reading along those very lines of insecurity and other emotions Shintarou usually prided himself into hiding. Kazunari shook his head, brushing the hair away from the forehead to gently press a kiss on it.

"It's a promise. I won't."

"Let's do our best tomorrow too, Takao..."

"Sure sure, Shin-chan."

~*~*

Taisuke found them like that, after clearing out the many first and second years, finding a few extra futons for his close teammates to sleep. Shaking his head and too tired to move another muscle, he simply threw a blanket over the pair he found entangled in the middle of the open hallway. Carefully, he took Midorima’s glasses off and set them on the drawer, trying not to be endeared by the way his stoic shooting guard was entangled like a vine around Takao, whose head was neatly secured below the other’s chin. Stepping over them to lock the door, and return to the kitchen to drink some water, he vowed himself never to hold another party at his fucking house.


End file.
